He Reminded Me Of Someone

Find Someone Who Will Tremble For Your Touch, Someone Whose Fingers Are A Poem.

Just Because A Poet Said Something Didn’t Mean It Was True, Only That It Sounded Good.

We Parked In Back And Walked Down The Stairs With Their Polished Brass Railings, Past The Old-fashioned Kitchen. We Could See The Chefs Cooking. It Smelled Like Stew, Or Meat Loaf, The Way Time Should Smell, Solid And Nourishing.

Wasn't That The Way It Always Was? You Didn't Know, You Couldn't Tell, You Just Let It Happen... Perhaps They Didn't Know Themselves. Sometimes The Line Was Very Fine.

Who Can Judge Another Man's Suffering?